


The Hunt

by shiiki



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/M, Gen, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-03
Updated: 2008-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-28 04:31:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13896306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiiki/pseuds/shiiki
Summary: James tracks one victim and remembers another.





	The Hunt

A jolt of surprise flashes through me when I set eyes on her. I wonder briefly if I've been mistaken, but no. The tiny build, pixie-like features, short-cropped hair ... it's unmistakably her.

I hadn't expected I'd ever see her again -- newborn vampires whose creators ... disappear ... don't usually have long life spans. The self-righteous self-appointed guardians of our kind usually take care of the crazed, bloodthirsty young ones before they expose the rest of us.

That she has survived this long -- eighty years, it must have been -- and ended up this far away from her natural home is quite an achievement in itself.

Her coven greets us warily. I let Laurent take charge; among the three of us, he has the best ability to make small-talk. I stand still, taking in the eight vampires before me. Amazing -- this is an incredibly large coven. They appear peaceable, but they are hiding something. I know it. I have a good feel for such things -- a sixth sense, if you will. My particular talent. An instinct that has helped me in many a game. Perhaps it is why I always win.

Except for once. When my opponent thwarted me before I could end him and take my prize.

Ah, I can still recall the scent of her. Of course, memory dulls things, and this particular recollection has faded, perhaps because I never had the chance to feed my intoxication. I imagine that it would have been the sweetest blood I had ever tasted. (The prey I never had, my one failure as a tracker -- of _course_ now if I should have the chance to feed upon her, it would taste sweeter than the countless others I have played for and won. But as I never can, the point is moot.)

In fact, as I recall, her blood was so sweet that I was aroused simply by her creator's desire for her.

Odd, the memory seems to get clearer by the second -- the smell of blood is more intense in my nostrils. Yet ... I realize the difference. This is not just a recollection. There is another fragrant -- not as potent as hers.

Something clicks in my head -- I had not noticed earlier, distracted by the memory of the scent of my long-lost prey. There _is_ prey, here in this clearing. My head whips around towards the smell, and I see her.

I almost laugh. The secret the coven is hiding. I had not thought it would be so blatantly obvious, staring me in the face with fearful brown eyes.

This girl is human, and I would have noticed it sooner if I hadn't been distracted by _her_. No matter, I see her now. I take in her aroma -- it's strangely floral -- in a large whiff.

Delicious. This one's blood would be sweet as well. I drop into a crouch …

And I am met with a rebuff. A protector. A challenge! This gets interesting. I could laugh -- my sixth sense has not failed me. Oh, there is a fine game to be played here, and my opponent, this copper-haired youth, has just dealt his cards.

Laurent, beside me, is surprised -- 'You brought a snack?' he says, voice full of incredulity. The man is a fool. No snack. This is property. This coven plans to keep the girl. The boy who growls at me does not exude a selfishness, an unwillingness to share his food. No, it is protectiveness that seeps from every pore of him.

And the rest of the coven are prepared to protect the weak human girl as well, I note with wonder, as the leader Carlisle rebukes Laurent. I don't miss that the warning in his tone. The biggest of them, a burly blond, backs the leader up. How unusual. I straighten, reassessing the playing field. Suddenly the stakes are higher -- seven against three. No, two, I correct myself, throwing Laurent a dirty look as he promises to leave the girl.

Victoria, at least, I can count on. And she is a more valuable partner than Laurent, in any case.

They are escaping now, the girl with her protector, the burly blond, and _her_. I feel a stab of acute annoyance. But there are still four of the coven with us, and I know enough to wait for better odds. My chance will come. Something tells me this.

I decline the invitation to visit with the coven. Victoria, of course, stands by me. Laurent, as I expected, does not, but this is advantageous -- while they take care of him, I have the chance to set off and make my plans.

I'm not stupid enough to assume they will not monitor me. Oh, their eyes are full of suspicion -- this is a clever lot I'm dealing with, but I can outplay them. Already the thrill, the excitement of the game is coursing in my veins. Seven strong vampires, one feeble prey ... why, what a pretty hand fate has dealt me: the most exciting game I have ever played.

Victoria and I turn back to the forest. As we run, I remember Biloxi, so long ago.

\---

I was alone then, and I'd arrived there sensing the presence of another vampire.

Richard was his name. He was cordial to me, offered me a place to rest if I wished to stay for a while in the town. He allowed me to hunt with him, his only caveat that we not draw attention to ourselves. He was a reasonable man. A nice man.

 _Too_ nice. I sensed that he was hiding something.

It didn't take me long to ferret out his secret, the girl. Richard worked at a mental asylum on the outskirts of town. I simply followed him there one day, unbeknownst to him, of course.

The scent of that girl wafted out from the asylum for miles. I admit it nearly drove me mad with desire: fresh, woodsy, so very appealing to my wild senses. I harboured there and then the insanity of racing right through the thick padded walls to snatch my coveted prey.  
  
I held myself in check. I am a tracker, a hunter, not a blood-crazed newborn. I could control my instincts -- in fact, in the last three centuries, they had been honed to perfection for my game.

A chase is like chess: it is all the more satisfying to win when your opponent is proficient. I have come across prey who run from me, attempt to throw me off, but these are but cat-and-mouse games. Prey is weak, so weak; I always control the pieces, but how much can you boast of demolishing an opponent of such inferior skills?

Now, it would be a game between two worthy opponents. While I had no doubt I would emerge triumphant eventually, I had to advance my pieces carefully. Patience was essential.

I waited. I made discreet inquiries at the asylum. I learnt. The girl, a pixie-like thing with dark hair cropped asylum-style, had been condemned to the madhouse for her visions. I had the fortune to view the effects of one when she was out in the garden with Richard: her body went rigid, and she stared at Richard as though seeing right through him. And then she began to scream, her limbs thrashing against him as he held her down and spoke soothingly to her.

She was slated to undergo electric shock therapy twice a day -- a process which somehow fanned her scent out. I withdrew from the asylum during these times, retreating to Richard's house to plot how I'd extract my lovely prey from her cage.

To give him credit, it didn't take long for Richard to realise what I was up to. I believe he knew within the week -- though I cannot be sure when the dice fell; he revealed none of his suspicions to me at first.

As I said, a worthy opponent.

By the end of the week, I had the asylum schedule down pat. Richard knocked off at five in the evening -- just after returning the girl from her therapy session -- securing the padded room before he left. Human locks. They were of no consequence to me.

I set up my chess board: in the morning, I announced my intention to move on. Biloxi, I told Richard, was too small and boring for me. He was cordial, dispensing with the proper formalities -- _I hope you enjoyed your stay, I wish you well on your journey,_ etc. etc. I noted that he did not say _I welcome you to visit again._

I did go out of town that morning, to throw Richard off. He suspected, I was sure, for all his mild vagueness. After all, he was quite the good actor when he had something to hide, as I'd already noticed in my first day with him. I returned at five to plant the trail at Richard's home, and the proceeded to the asylum five minutes later. Thanks to my week watching, I knew which room to go to, but even if I had not, I could have followed the scent very easily.

The first visible sign that Richard knew something was up was the reinforcements on the padded room. He'd wrought iron across the door, adding chained locks to the measly breakable one I'd seen during previous information-gathering excursions. Not that I couldn't break through, but it would cause considerable damage and possibly draw a crowd. A complication to slow me down until Richard arrived on the scene? Perhaps.

There was something I hadn't quite put my finger on. What did I know of Richard? Secretive, mild ... _averse to confrontations_. Yes, that was it. Not once had he approached me in anything less than a formal, stilted way. Afraid?

Well, this changed the game a little. Unfortunately, I had no time to ponder. I'd set up my board with not much room for timing errors. If Richard were to arrive before I got a hold of his little pet, it would tip the scales in his favour. There were two options -- retreat and choose another time to attack; or -- more risky but exciting -- carry on and see just what Richard had planned.

I chose the latter and so, smashed in the door.

The room was empty.

It took a moment for Richard's full set-up to sink in. The locks were a red herring. He'd known I planned to come for the girl. He'd realised the meaning of my 'leaving' this morning and acted in response. I'd underestimated him, after all.

If he thought, however, that stealing the girl away would hinder me, then _he_ had underestimated _me_ as well. His move only brought the game to the next level. Oh yes, it was all the more interesting now that he had given me a target to track.

A nurse arrived on the scene; I snapped her neck before she could scream and left her body mangled in the room. Let the humans make what they would of that. The idea that they might send out a search warrant for Richard -- how useful, his jumping town coinciding with a bloody murder! -- amused me. I left the asylum.

The trail ran west, out of Biloxi, into Louisiana. As I traced them, I noticed something very strange: the girl's scent was changing. As though she was slowly fading away ... no, not quite that -- it was as if she were being replaced.

_No._

By the time I caught up to Richard, I knew what he had done. I finally faced him outside a run-down shack on the outskirts of Houston.

'It's done,' he said simply, meeting my furious glare with annoying calmness. He showed me through the window: the girl, awakening inside the shack, skin pale as ivory, eyes gleaming blood-red. 'You cannot touch her.'

Of course I could. No newborn vampire stood a chance against me. He was right in a different way, however -- the game was not about _her_ , the little wench Richard had managed to protect. It was all about him, my adversary. And if it could not end in me wresting his pet from him, I would have to win in another way.

'No,' I agreed. 'I won't touch her.'

The object of every game is the same: a life.

He might have led me a pretty dance and saved his little pet, but oh, he was no match for me in the end, Richard.

\---

The parallel nature of the two events -- then and now -- intrigues me. And it is completely befitting that my little lost one should be here. It's like an exchange -- this prey in return for the one I lost. Even more amusing -- my little lost one has no idea of how she began. Yes, I think. I will enjoy revealing her secret.

I arrive at the end of the trail -- a simple suburban house that my quarry is leaving, screaming her head off at someone inside.

'It didn't work out, okay? I really, really _hate_ Forks!'

She runs out, alone and susceptible for the moment. Victoria crouches next to me, but I hold her back. The girl is sprinting to the truck, and there's no doubt her vigilant protector awaits there, ready to spring if we show right now. This is a game that will take skill. Tactics.

'Let's run,' I whisper to Victoria, and she almost purrs in response. Already I can see the bright, clear line that will lead me to the end of this trail unfolding in my head.

This hunt has only just begun.  



End file.
